


Under Protection

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Carrying, Character being protected isn't used to being cared about, Cleaning/treating wounds, Hurt Davos Seaworth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, beat up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Davos is unused to anyone looking after him, much less a great lord, but Stannis is more than willing to take on that duty.





	Under Protection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



Davos felt out of place in King's Landing. He had not expected not to, of course, but that didn't make the reality of having to exist at court any less unpleasant. He didn't dare breathe a word of his discomfort to Stannis, though. He had enough to do as it was; his work for Stannis took up enough time that he wasn't usually bothered by his loneliness. 

He felt it most in the evenings, when Stannis shut himself up in his chambers with a book. Davos certainly didn't feel as though he were invited to sit with him, much less to do what he would have done if he _were_ to sit companionably beside Stannis while he read, which was darn his stockings. (He would have darned Stannis' stockings as well, were he asked.) 

Still, he missed his friends from his smuggling days; he had once gone down to the docks and into a tavern there, but his reception had been cool and he had not been back. 

His next step had been to try to make friends among the lower ranks of the Baratheon men. He knew a highborn knight or lord wasn't like to welcome his company, but the men-at-arms, the lowborn knights seemed more likely to be willing to talk to Davos.

He entered the great hall some hours after dinner, after leaving Stannis to his evening's reading. He was glad to see a man he recognized—Edvar Storm. He didn't know the man well, for he had been with Robert in the riverlands, rather than with Stannis at Storm's End, but he and Davos served the same house, and so he thought they might have something in common. 

He sat awkwardly at one end of the bench, listening to the conversation of the men. They were talking of horses, something Davos had little experience with, and he'd hoped to listen until a lull in the conversation allowed him to insert himself. 

Before he could do this, Ser Edvar noticed him. 

"Ah, Onion Knight!" Davos had heard rumors that he was a distant cousin to Robert and Stannis, and he certainly had Robert's smile. A noble bastard wasn't quite a noble, nor was he exactly baseborn. Perhaps he would be a good friend for Davos. "What are you doing all the way down there?"

"I didn't want to impose," Davos said cautiously. 

"No such thing. You haven't even a drink in front of you." Edvar took an empty goblet from the center of the table and filled it. Davos drank gratefully. Perhaps if he was a bit more relaxed, things would come more easily. 

"It's good to see you come down from Stannis' tower," Edvar went on. "He thinks too good for the rest of us." 

"Oh, I don't think so," Davos said, aware that leaping to defend Stannis didn't make him seem terribly amiable, but the confounded part of him that thought too much of Stannis wouldn't let the comment pass unnoticed. "I just think he prefers his own company." 

"And not yours?" 

Davos wasn't sure who had spoken, and he felt his face grow hot. "Lord Stannis will call for me if he has need of me." 

There was a muffled snicker from somewhere to his left; Davos' gaze did not leave his wine. Perhaps this had been a mistake. He had undarned stockings in his chamber. He was standing to leave when Edvar reached for his hand. 

"Gone so soon?"

"Just a little tired." 

"Stannis working you too hard?" There was a cruel aspect to Edvar's smile Davos had not seen before. "Seems he's neglecting your knightly education as well." 

"I have learned plenty from Lord Stannis." Davos was no longer interested in making friends with these men. 

"I haven't seen you once in the training yard."

"Please let go my hand, ser," Davos said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

Edvar's grip only tightened as he swung his legs over the bench and stood. "Let's see how much you've learned."

Davos' heart was racing now; his only thought was to get away as quickly as possible. With his stature, he had little defense against a man who was kin to the Baratheons. Davos kneed Edvar between the legs as hard as he could and ran. He did not stop to appreciate the groan of pain or the way Edvar doubled over. He was concentrated on reaching the door out of the hall and the eventual safety of Stannis' chambers.

It was with rising dread that he became aware of the sound of boots on flags catching up to him until a hand grabbed him by the hair.

"Running to tell Lord Stannis?" asked a voice in his ear. Its owner twisted Davos' arm behind his back. He didn't know this man's name, but it hardly mattered. All those who had been in their cups with Edvar now stood around him, blocking his escape. It now became apparent why. 

Edvar was making his way toward Davos, looking disheveled and furious. Davos swallowed hard. If only he'd been faster…

The man who held him turned him around; another grabbed his other arm It wasn't the first time Davos' mouth had brought him a beating, though he'd hoped knighthood would have brought a stop to it. He supposed, though, that some things were eternal, even if he wasn't getting himself in the middle of tavern brawls. 

Edvar leaned in close to his face. "Doesn't seem you _have_ learned much, smuggler."

Davos stared back, saying nothing. This was not a man he could reason with.

"What's that?" Davos' stomach dropped as Edvar's gaze fell on the pouch he wore around his neck. Usually, he kept it tucked under his clothes but it had slipped free during his escape.

Edvar slipped it off over Davos' head and opened the pouch. Davos felt a rush of shame. He didn't expect anyone else to understand why he kept his finger bones, least of all Edvar. 

A smile spread across Edvar's face. "This is what you carry around your neck? Your old bones?" 

Davos refused to hang his head in shame. "Give them back." 

Edvar ignored him and tucked the pouch away into his doublet. "You may earn them back when you know your place, smuggler." 

The first blow caught him in the solar plexus, another landing in his stomach before he could get his breath back. Edvar's fists came steady and fast and Davos was given no chance to reply. Not, he supposed, that he would have had much chance. He was hardly a fit knight, having no skills to gain glory on the tourney field or in battle for his lord. Most of his fighting experience involved decreasing the likelihood that he would need to fight. 

The next punch landed square on his mouth, and Davos tasted blood. 

"Learned your lesson, Seaworth?" 

Davos spat on the flags. "I imagine my mind is too baseborn common to grasp your lesson, ser." 

He was barely conscious of being slammed to the floor, nor could he count the boots that swarmed around him. Davos heard something crack as a kick landed in his side. 

Unconsciousness came as a blessing.

When Davos was again sensible, the fire had died down and the hall was empty. He pushed himself up to his knees and closed his eyes as his vision swam. The last thing he needed now was to fall because he stood up before getting his bearings. He felt for the pouch around his neck before remembering it was gone. The realization was like a second loss, especially as he couldn't see ever getting it back. 

He could not let Stannis see him like this. To run to Stannis and tell him of the incident would make him look like a dog cowering behind its master. 

Slowly, gingerly, he made his way out of the hall, creeping along while keeping his hand pressed to a nearby wall. He would not get to his bed quickly, but he would get there. 

His greatest challenge came when he had to cross to the stairs. He moved slowly, bent over so as not to aggravate the throbbing pain in his abdomen. When he reached the stairs, he settled himself on the first step to rest. 

He would get up the stairs and into his bed eventually, and then perhaps there would be time to rest before he had to be up. He said a prayer to the Seven that his face wouldn't tell the story of his experience though he knew it was futile. What god did one direct such prayers to? He certainly had not earned the Warrior's blessing. 

"Davos?" 

Davos was shaken from his reverie by the last voice in all the Seven Kingdoms he had wanted to hear. "My lord." He fought for his feet, managing to rise shakily with the aid of the wall. Stannis was coming toward him down the steps, his face creased by a frown. "What has happened to you?" 

"It's nothing, my lord. Just a little fall." 

Stannis pressed his lips together. "I doubt that. You would have to be an unfortunate man indeed to fall all the way down these stairs with how they curve so." 

"I am quite clumsy, my lord." 

Stannis made his way down the last few stairs to where Davos sat. He wished he trusted himself to stand without awkwardness. 

"I know you are anything but," Stannis said, coming to a stop on the step above Davos. "Can you rise?" 

"Yes."

"Then let me see you."

Davos closed his eyes. "Please, my lord—"

"For if you cannot do it yourself, I shall help you." 

"My lord—" 

"Do not protest, Davos." 

And because he had been bade not to, Davos did not open his mouth as Stannis knelt and gathered him up in his arms, even from his awkward position half-fallen against the wall.

"Are you comfortable, Davos?" 

All Davos could do was nod. His body throbbed with pain, but Stannis had lifted him gently, more gently than Davos thought him capable of. 

"Put your arms around my neck." 

Again, Davos would have protested, but he truly didn't think he could have walked on his own. He did as instructed, trying not to feel abjectly foolish. Instead he tried not to like it too much, the warmth of Stannis, the way his fingers brushed the short hairs on the back of his neck. Davos rested his head against Stannis' shoulder as Stannis adjusted him in his arms. 

"Will you tell me what happened?" 

Davos said nothing as Stannis edged his way up the stairs, clearly trying not to jostle him. 

"Was it those fools Robert surrounds himself with?" 

Davos pressed his lips together and did not respond. 

They were silent for the rest of their journey, save Stannis stopping to adjust his burden, always asking if Davos was in pain. 

"I can see that you must be," Stannis went on, as they made their way down the empty corridor. "I only wish to avoid causing you _undue_ pain. We will deal with the rest once I put you down and have my hands free." 

Davos was so dazed he hadn't even taken note of where they were going. When Stannis paused to open the door, Davos realized Stannis was taking him to his own chambers. 

"No, my lord, you needn't—" 

"Your wounds need care, and I can see to them here. Would you rather I take you to your own room so that you may bleed in your bed and the maid may find you dead in the morning?"

"I don't think I will die, my lord." 

"But you need your injuries seen to." Stannis was now crossing into his bedchamber and it was with dread that Davos was laid on his bed. 

It was a cruel irony considering the many times he'd fantasized about being lain tenderly in Stannis' bed. The reality of Stannis was even more gentle than his fantasies. He settled Davos on the counterpane with more care than Davos felt he rated. 

"I won't bother to ask you if you would like me to get a maester. I will see to your wounds myself." 

Before Davos could protest, Stannis had moved away to get a candle. "My lord," Davos began. 

"Would you like to discuss this with Pycelle?"

Davos closed his eyes. "No."

"I am capable of dressing wounds," Stannis went on. "Maester Cressen made sure I knew before I was of age." 

Davos could do nothing but lie there as Stannis gathered his supplies. He certainly couldn't leave under his own power, so he was wholly reliant on Stannis. 

"May I remove your tunic?" 

"Yes." Davos couldn't afford to worry about shame right now. 

Stannis helped him sit up and Davos undid the laces so Stannis could help him pull the garment off over his head. Davos found he couldn't lift his arms high without pain, so Stannis moved gently to get Davos' arms out of the sleeves, trying not to aggravate Davos' bruises. 

It wasn't lost on Davos, however, the way he made a low, disapproving noise in his throat. 

"Was it Robert's friends?"

"Not as such." Davos knew Edvar to be not particular friend of Robert's, though he was supposed to be kin to Robert and Stannis. 

Stannis laid Davos' tunic aside. "I'm going to touch you. I need to see if any of your ribs are cracked or broken." 

Davos tried to breathe evenly as Stannis felt along his sides. His palms were cool against the throbbing ache. 

"Ah," Stannis said, just as Davos winced. "Right here, I fear. Let me wrap them." 

Davos sat still while Stannis wrapped his middle in linen. His skills were surprising; he'd been in battle with Stannis, but had never seen him attend to the injured. 

Stannis broke the silence, answering a question Davos hadn't asked. "There was talk of me becoming a maester," he said. "Obviously, I did not, but Maester Cressen taught me some things. I am glad to be able to use them." 

Davos nodded. That Stannis was skilled helped. It was more like being attended by a healer than by the lord he lusted after. 

"I regret that my influence was not enough to protect you from such fools and bastards Robert keeps about this castle." Stannis spoke with barely restrained resentment. "Would that I was the sort of man who—" Davos must have started because he said, "Do not worry, I won't do anything rash that might rate you a worse fate. He is my great-uncle's bastard and inherited all the bitterness of his sire. You are worth more than any number of the likes of him." 

"Yes, my lord."

Stannis brushed Davos' hair out of the way. "Shall I tie this back? You are going to have salve on most of you when I'm finished with you." 

Davos could only nod; he didn't think he could lift his arms to do it himself.

Stannis' hands gently gathered Davos' hair, making him shiver. Out of the corner of his eye, Davos saw him frown as he fumbled with the ponytail and the twine. 

Davos smiled slightly. _He has always kept his hair short._

At last, Stannis got the knot tied, and most of Davos' hair was out of his face. 

Then Stannis reached for the salve. He worked more gently than Davos had ever imagined Stannis could be, spreading the salve carefully on his chest and arms. 

Davos shivered again. 

Stannis instantly withdrew his hands. "Am I hurting you?"

"No… no." Davos swallowed hard. He could not look at Stannis' face. "Anything but. I—I—I don't deserve this."

"Nonsense." Stannis seemed to be restraining his anger, when Davos chanced a glance up at him, he could see he was nearly shaking with pent-up rage. "Davos, you are—" His adam's apple bobbed. "I said you were worth any number of the bastard it pains me to call cousin, but it is more than that. You are worth everything to _me_ and even if… even if… even if no one understands that, I will do everything I can to ensure that _you_ do." 

Having said this, Stannis slammed his pot of salve somewhat forcefully down on the nightstand. "Now, I am going to finish cleaning your wounds and let you rest."

Davos said nothing as Stannis washed the blood from his face and applied more salve. 

"There," Stannis said. "Is there aught else you need?"

"No," Davos said quietly. He was now simply ashamed the whole thing had happened, that Stannis had had to do all this for him, that he'd elicited an outburst of emotion from Stannis which felt oddly private. 

"All right, then. Good night. If you have need of anything, just call out to me. I will be in the next room." He pulled the covers up around Davos and left the room before Davos could protest about being left in Stannis' bed. 

**

Davos woke, unsure of how long he had slept, though the light filtering in through the window was that of late morning. 

He pushed himself gingerly into a sitting position, pushing his hair out of his face that had escaped the binding Stannis had tied. 

"Ugh," he said, with feeling. 

The door opened. "Good. You're awake." Stannis was the very picture of a man who has slept in a chair and not changed his clothes or combed his hair. "I have breakfast." He vanished from the doorway and returned with a tray, which he set carefully in Davos' lap.

Davos hadn't anticipated he would be hungry but he ate quickly. Stannis opened the drapes wide, letting in more light.

"Light and fresh air are good for healing," he was saying. "Maester Cressen was always somewhat skeptical of the idea that air was dangerous, though I am not sure about city air. Luckily our rooms face the sea."

Davos wondered at the slip in exactly whose rooms they were. "You are missing your council meeting, my lord."

"I know. If the king misses them regularly, surely they can get on without the master of ships once." Stannis paused, his hands resting on his hips. "That said, I do have business to attend to. Will you be all right for a few hours, Davos?"

"Of course, my lord."

"Good." Stannis hesitated as though he meant to do something else, but then nodded curtly and left. 

Davos didn't have the strength to get out of bed, so he amused himself by watching from the window as the people of the Red Keep went about their day. He watched for Stannis, but did not see him. In early afternoon, he slipped off to sleep.

When he woke, the sun had shifted. Stannis was sitting in the window seat, reading a book. 

Davos blinked, adjusting to wakefulness. 

A leather pouch was arranged on the bedclothes beside him. 

He sat up quickly, reaching for it. "My lord—" 

Stannis laid his book aside and rose. "I found my cousin and encouraged him strongly to return what he had stolen from you." He sat on the bed. "Forgive me, Davos. I know I said I would not… do anything, but I saw that it was gone and I drew certain conclusions."

Davos wondered why he'd moved. He liked his nearness, however. "Thank you, my lord." He felt for the bones inside and, flooded with relief, he hung it once more around his neck. 

"I was serious last night," Stannis said quietly. "I wish I could protect you at all times."

"I don't need protection." Davos was trying to sound confident—he would, eventually, have to walk the halls of the castle alone; as much as he liked the idea of Stannis appointing himself Davos' sworn avenger, it wasn't practical. 

"And yet I want to give it. If they had hurt you more…" His hands were shaking again. "Nay, because they hurt you this much—if they had still been there when I arrived, I would have killed them." 

"No, Stannis." He hasn't meant to say his name, and Stannis did not even seem to have noticed. 

"I know," he said, his voice low and rough with tension. "But I _could_ have. I am not given to my brother's rages, but… for you." Stannis reached for him, and despite the force of his words, his touch was even gentler than it had been last night. His fingertips brushed Davos' beard, over his face, and through his hair so that they rested on the back of his neck. 

Davos barely had time to prepare to be kissed before Stannis' lips were on his. His passion was obviously at war with his desire to continue treating Davos gently, so Davos tried to kiss him back with a hint of what he would be capable of when he wasn't in nearly such excruciating pain. 

"I'm sorry, Davos," Stannis said once they had parted. 

"Do not," Davos said firmly, licking his lips, "apologize for that. Unless you don't want to kiss me again." 

Stannis obviously wanted to kiss Davos again.

**

By that evening, Davos insisted on getting up. He had spent enough time in bed, probably more than he ever had in his life in one stretch. They'd even eaten dinner in bed, Stannis taking a tray as well, chair drawn up beside the bed. 

So, it was without shame that he walked into the sitting room on Stannis' arm and settled in a chair that had been carefully arranged with pillows. 

"What are you doing?" Stannis asked, as he sat in the other chair with his book. 

"Darning my stockings." He'd had the maid go to his quarters for his work bag; if he was to sit idly for a few days while he recovered, he would not be totally useless. "If you have any holes in yours, my lord, I will be happy to do yours as well." 

Stannis glowered at him, looking like he was about to say he would procure new stocking before he would have Davos darn his. Then, he rose and went into the bedroom, returning with five stockings. 

"My feet are big," he said by way of explanation. "I tend to wear out the toes and heels."

Davos tried not to think too much about the implications of Stannis having big feet. There would be time later to see if that was true. 

"If you need stockings that fit, I would happily make you some." He smiled and reached for Stannis' stockings. "I did all of my own mending and sewing before I met you and it is hard to stop." 

Stannis frowned and, seeming not to have anything more to say, leaned down and kissed Davos. "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate it."

He settled back in his own chair and picked up his book. "I'll read to you, if you like. This is an account of the Scouring of Lorath." 

Davos wasn't quite sure what that meant, but he nodded. "I would like that."

He still ached over most of his body, but Stannis' voice and the crackling fire relaxed him. He smiled as he dropped his darning egg into Stannis' stocking. 

This was exactly what he had wanted from the first, and while he had not enjoyed what he'd gone through in order to get it, it was far from unwelcome.

He chanced another glance at Stannis. He knew he would not be ready for anything too physical but perhaps Stannis would not have to spend another night in the chair. He had, after all, called them _our rooms_. Davos was happy not to argue with him.


End file.
